


It's Not About Size, It's What You Do With It That Matters

by TourmalineQueen



Series: Rozenn the Breton [7]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Balgruuf and Ulfric have a love-hate bromance, F/M, Gen, Humour, That bed is Too Smol, There's only one (1) bed, Wedding Night Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 19:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20376793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TourmalineQueen/pseuds/TourmalineQueen
Summary: Written for Skyrim KinkmemeOriginal Prompt: I've noticed with a lot of potential spouses that, if you marry them before buying your own place, you're stuck sharing a single bed with them. I want to see some hijinks between the Dragonborn and their new husband/wife following the realization that, unless one of them is fond of sleeping on the floor, they'll have to make do with it for a while. I don't really care if you go the smutty or humorous route with this, honestly. Have fun!





	It's Not About Size, It's What You Do With It That Matters

Their wedding ceremony was over, their guests were trickling away, either to their homes or the Bee and Barb, and Rozenn and Galmar were wed.

"So, wife," Galmar drawled, with a slow, smug smile, "where are we to spend our wedding night?"

"Well," Rozenn replied, baring her teeth in a lusty grin, "I had considered my home in Whiterun, but it's too far, and isn't really livable just yet. I had also considered taking up Jarl Laila's offer of hospitality, but one of her sons is insufferable, and the other is ... also insufferable," she said after a brief hesitation, "And I would prefer some privacy for our first night as man and wife. So I suppose the Bee and Barb is as good a place as any. What do you think?"

"We could go back to Windhelm and make good use of my quarters," Galmar suggested.

"Now? But it's getting dark. And besides, we won't make Windhelm for at least a day. I want - I want our wedding night - I want you _now_, Galmar," Rozenn said urgently, gripping his hand tightly.

"So eager, wife? I must admit I am glad to hear it. I hope you remain as lusty a wench all the years of our lives," Galmar said, with a smile that verged on a leer.

He pulled her up against him, her legs dangling a foot above the ground, body to body, and devouring her mouth in a hungry kiss. They broke apart only when the need to breathe became urgent. And upon hearing a guard catcall at them. He set her down on the ground again, breathing heavily.

"Tavern?" Rozenn suggested breathlessly.

"Tavern," Galmar confirmed with a growl.

Keerava was less than thrilled to see them. "No. Go away. I cannot afford a broken bed right now - thanks to _your_ friend Brynjolf."

Rozenn rolled her eyes. "If you'd paid correctly and on time your debt would not have built up - and _we are not going to break the bed_!"

"Don't make promises your lusty husband can't keep, Breton," Galmar muttered. 

Rozenn elbowed him. "Please, Keerava? It's our wedding night."

"I know and you brought much valued custom to me. Too much custom. No empty beds. Two Jarls are sleeping here tonight! Two!"

"By the Nine, Keerava, I hope you put Balgruuf and Ulfric at opposite ends of the building," Rozenn said seriously.

"Why?" Keerava asked suspiciously.

"Don't you follow politics at all?" Galmar asked curiously.

"Balgruuf and Ulfric are not on speaking terms right now," Rozenn supplied diplomatically. "At least tell me there's a space between them."

"One room, one bed, between the Jarls and their disagreement," Keerava said at length. "It's not the best room because, as I said I have two Jarls staying tonight. And their stewards. And some other people I don't know but who paid _early_ for their rooms."

"Once it has four legs and a mattress, a bed's a bed as far as I'm concerned," Rozenn said happily. "And it's good for two very specific tasks."

"Enough! Enough! I don't want to know what you two intend to do! I'll just show you up, and let you... make hatchlings... in peace," Keerava said, waving her arms about in distaste leading them upstairs.

The room was barely wider than the bed, the foot of which blocked the inside of the doorway.

"That is not a room. That's barely a bed," Galmar complained, "It's tiny. I doubt I could fit in it alone, let alone with my wife."

Keerava shrugged. "You should have paid up before the ceremony. You knew two Jarls and their entourages would be staying the night - or one of them you knew for sure anyway. There is no other bed. You cannot have mine. I need it. Make hatchlings in here or on the grass outside. No refunds if you go outside."

Rozenn ignored the griping conversation, and simply clambered into the room, hopping nimbly over the foot of the bed. "Galmar!"

"What, Breton?" Galmar asked irritably.

"It's a bed. Let's just use it!" Rozenn glared at him.

Keerava smirked. "Seems your wife prefers to contemplate you than your accommodation, Nord Bear Man. Consider yourself lucky."

"Now Galmar!"

Galmar rolled his eyes and chuckled. He closed the door on Keerava's retreating back.

"It's too small, Breton," he said fondly.

"Not caring," Rozenn replied, dragging her gold-trimmed blue tunic over her head and tossing it to the side.

Galmar growled appreciatively, and started unhooking his armour. His armour hit the walls and slid to the floor much more loudly than Rozenn's tunic. 

Rozenn, standing on the bed, dragged Galmar closer for a searing kiss that left them both panting.

"Lie down, my love, flat on your back," Rozenn ordered.

"What - Ohhh," Galmar murmured, smiling against her lips.

"Comprehension dawns, does it, Bear Man?" Rozenn teased.

*-*

In the tap room Ulfric Stormcloak turned bleary eyes to the stairs when Balgruuf the Greater clattered down like a dragon was chasing him. Windhelm's Jarl lifted his ale in a silent toast.

"Still not stopped?" Ulfric asked quietly.

The question was rhetorical, as a rhythmic thumping could be heard through the ceiling.

"I get the feeling all the dragons in the land would be killed in a week, were they to go hunting together," Balgruuf said sourly.

"Nonsense, Balgruuf," Ulfric scoffed. "They'd never get beyond sharing a bedroll to deal with the dragons."

"How'd you get down here first?" Balgruuf asked resignedly.

"You forget, Galmar's been my Housecarl all our lives. I have a long memory of tents and thin-walled inns. Balgruuf... Shall we agree never to speak of this night again?"

"I'll drink to that."

The rhythmic thumping grew quicker and quicker until a particularly loud crash sounded right above the Jarls' heads.

"I'll be damned. She really is a dragon, isn't she?" Balgruuf wondered.

"Keerava won't be pleased."

*-*-*

The next morning Galmar awoke to a nice warm armful of Breton, sleeping peacefully across his torso. He ran his hands up her sides, to stroke the nape of her neck.

"Not now, love," Rozenn mumbled sleepily. "We've already broken one bed."

"Hush, wife," Galmar whispered into her hair. "Just enjoy it while you can."


End file.
